


Hair

by HalfASlug



Series: Back [2]
Category: Broadchurch
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-25
Updated: 2016-05-25
Packaged: 2018-06-10 15:36:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6962800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HalfASlug/pseuds/HalfASlug
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hardy and Miller are back in Broadchurch, solving crimes and adjusting to the new normal they've found themselves in.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hair

**Author's Note:**

> This is based on the set photos from the first day of shooting the third series. If you want to avoid the smallest of tiny spoilers then don't read.

“Do you think he’s lying?”

The man they had been interviewing went back into the cab office, Ellie’s eyes trailing him until he disappeared. “Probably.” She sighed. “We’ll probably find out too late.”

The case had been frustrating so far. There were no clear leads and all answers only asked more questions. Ellie knew she was missing something obvious. She stared at the number for the cab company plastered over the window without seeing it, hoping for the pieces to fall together.

Her thoughts were interrupted by something cold brushing the side of her face.

Her heartbeat was interrupted when she realised the something cold was Hardy’s hand.

“What the bloody hell was that?” She wasn’t sure if he’d taken a step away from her or if she’d flinched harder than she realised.

Hardy blinked, his hand now safely back in his pocket where it couldn’t scare her anymore. “You had - hair.” He gestured vaguely with his other hand to the side of his face.

Ellie checked and, sure enough, a lock of hair had fallen out of her bun and was now tucked behind her ear. She couldn’t decide if she wanted to appear casually unaffected by his gesture or utterly disgusted by it. In the end she had no choice and her face screwed itself into a look of horror.

Not that Hardy noticed. He was too busy inspecting his scuffed up shoes.

“Shall we get back to the nick before you start plucking my eyebrows?” she suggested.

“Don’t start.” Hardy scowled as he traipsed back towards her car. She hurried after him, noting how he walked far more steadily now compared to the way he lumbered around when she first met him.

“It’s nice, by the way. The hair,” he elaborated when she looked confused.

With the sun behind him, Ellie had to squint to see him properly. “It’s same as it was yesterday. And the day before. And the day you came back. Two weeks ago.”

“I know. Just… It hasn’t come up before.”

When he offered no further explanation into his sudden interest in her hair, Ellie readjusted her bag strap to rummage for her keys. “As long as you don’t expect a compliment back.”

“Only when it gets a bit warmer around here and four horsemen show up.”

“You look exactly the same,” Ellie pointed out. “Less likely to collapse, but otherwise the same.”

Hardy made a noise that was probably meant to be a chuckle but from anyone else she could’ve mistaken it for a failed sneeze. Two weeks back into their working relationship and Ellie was learning all the abnormal ways Alec Hardy now expressed joy. It had never been something she’d encountered before, but it happened once or twice a day since his return. It made her question whether the surgeon who gave him the pacemaker didn’t accidentally fiddle with his brain and tweak his personality enough to make him a smidge more human.

They paused on the curb and waited to cross the road to her car. The softness of his touch had left the skin by her ear tingling. Not for the first time, Ellie found her stomach twisting uncomfortably around Hardy. It was happening with an increasing frequency and she longed for the days when his face pissed her off.

Nowadays, it did… something else.

“It suits you, you know,” Ellie said, looking dead ahead. “Not being at death’s door.”

There was a second when she could’ve sworn Hardy twitched, but soon he coughed and the awkward tension lessened.

“Is that a flying pig?”

“Shut up,” she snapped and stepped off the curb. With him behind her, she allowed herself a small grin as she unlocked the car. Whatever else was changing, at least some things stayed the same.


End file.
